ISABEL’S POV

I shifted in my seat, resisting the urge to roll my eyes as I watched Mom go on and on with Mrs. Cole. They’d been talking for what felt like forever — seriously, how long can someone just stand there and keep talking at a burial? My legs were stiff, my patience exhausted, and honestly, I was already sick of pretending to care.

If it were up to me, I’d be on my phone right now, scrolling through my feed or replying to the more important messages waiting for me. But what kind of person would I look like if I sat here tapping away while everyone was...